Chapter 25
NOW
Dear Lexie,
Before I know it, another year has come around, one I feel carry me further from your days. Time is passing too quickly. I have a need to hold on to the grief I still feel; I’m not ready to let you go.
I take one of my walks to the churchyard, timing it when one of Mary’s friends is visiting, her frailty increasingly stopping me from going far, unless I know that someone else is there with her.
Your headstone is weathering. The realisation shocks me; for so long, it was newly etched, pristine. Stood out.
But in a hundred years, no one will remember any of us.
You said it casually; a throwaway comment. You had no ego, no inflated sense of self-importance. For you, your life was about having a purpose.
You and Lucy have your flowers. It’s a gift, Mum. You make someone’s special day even more special.
Compared to what you did, flowers seemed trivial, inconsequential. But I’ve learned since that life is shades of every colour, in the same way that darkness is balanced by the brilliance of light.
I glance around the churchyard, pulling my jacket more tightly around me as the wind picks up. The January sky is grey, quilted. As I gaze up at it, rain starts to fall.
When I get back to Mary’s, she’s alone. ‘I’m glad I’ve caught you,’ she says, as though it’s her who’s just come back. ‘There’s something I want to talk to you about.’
‘Yes?’ I’m intrigued. ‘Shall I make us some tea?’
‘Would you?’ She sits down at her kitchen table. ‘I am so grateful you’re here, Edie.’
‘I love being here,’ I say honestly.
‘You’ve been to the churchyard, haven’t you?’ she asks gently.
I’m taken aback. But I should know by now, Mary misses little. I nod. ‘I hadn’t been for a while.’ I take our mugs over to the table and pass one to her. ‘What is it you want to talk about?’
‘You, dear,’ she says. ‘Well, you being here.’
‘Isn’t it working?’ Suddenly I’m anxious. ‘You must tell me if there’s something you’re not happy about.’
‘Oh, no. It isn’t that at all,’ she says. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact. But we need to talk about what happens after. When I’m not here any more.’
I open my mouth to say, You’re not going anywhere. But we both know it would be a cliché; our conversations are more honest than that. ‘Is there something you haven’t told me?’
She sighs. ‘I have a little problem with my heart,’ she says quietly. ‘Now, before you say anything, I don’t want Joe to know.’
‘He would want to know,’ I say. ‘What has your doctor told you?’
‘I have something called congestive heart failure. Goodness knows why – I’ve always looked after myself.
I told the doctor that. He said it happens sometimes to older people.
Older.’ She shakes her head. ‘He’s always so diplomatic,’ she murmurs.
‘He’s prescribed some pills – I was going to ask you if you’d be a dear and pick them up from the chemist for me. ’
‘Of course.’ I was still taking it in. ‘You’re going to have to take it easy, Mary.’ I pause. ‘And I know you don’t want to, but you really must talk to Joe.’
She looks troubled. ‘There’s nothing he can do. And at the moment, I really think he has enough on his plate.’ She pauses. ‘Between you and me, I think his marriage is in trouble.’
‘Whether it is or not, you should still tell him,’ I say more firmly.
‘You think so?’ Her eyes hold mine for a moment.
‘Oh dear. I’ve forgotten, haven’t I? It wasn’t me I wanted to talk to you about.
It was you. You see, at some point, I’m not going to be here, Edie.
Obviously the house will be left to Joe.
But I’ve been thinking about this and I want to leave the stable to you. ’
I gaze at her, shocked. ‘You can’t do that, Mary.’
‘It’s my house,’ she says. ‘I think it’s up to me what I do with it.
Now before you say anything, I’ve already spoken to my solicitor.
Because the stable is on the edge of the property, it should be straightforward.
She’s arranging for someone to come over and measure it all up so that the deeds can be changed. ’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ I can’t take it in, can’t believe she’s doing this. ‘I think you should talk to Joe about this, too.’
‘I already have,’ she says. ‘He’s quite happy with my plan.’
‘Really?’ I look at her, astonished. ‘But why?’ I frown. ‘Why would you do this for me?’
‘You’re doing a fine job of looking after me. And you’ve transformed that overgrown garden of mine. I know we’ve both been through such sadness, my dear.’ Her eyes are misty as she reaches out and touches one of my hands.
‘I can give you some money.’ My mind is racing. ‘I have the proceeds from the sale of my house. It isn’t enough, but…’
‘No,’ she says softly. ‘Thank you, but I think most of your life you’ve looked out for other people. Now, it’s your turn. You are more deserving than anyone else I know of a little kindness.’
Her words touch my heart and, for a moment, I can’t speak. Gazing at her, my eyes are filled with tears. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper.
* * *
‘Mary said what?’ Lucy looks flabbergasted when I tell her.
‘I still need to talk to Joe. I’m not sure I’m comfortable about it.’ Frowning, I tail it off. ‘But she said she’s already spoken to him.’
‘It’s incredibly generous of her. I can’t believe it. But you deserve it, Edie. You really do.’ Lucy looks completely blindsided. Then her face changes. ‘Shit. You haven’t forgotten, have you? We have a meeting this afternoon – a September bride. I’ve emailed you her details.’
Since I started growing flowers, Lucy deals with our admin; it’s an agreement that works for both of us.
‘I haven’t,’ I reassure her. ‘I’m going out to the garden for a bit. I need to check on a few things.’
Pulling on my jacket, I wander across the grass, and I’m still thinking about Mary’s generosity, about the difference it will make to us, as I go through the door into the walled garden.
I would never say it to her, but when the time comes that the house is sold, this is what I’ll miss most in years to come.
Closing the door behind me, I go over to the bench I brought here years ago.
Sitting down, I look around, taking in the carefully prepared soil that’s turned over and weed-free, ready for planting.
Then my eyes move to the vast herb bed, stems from which have brought scent to many a bride’s bouquet.
A garden is timeless, adapts to the changing seasons. And then, I’m thinking of you, Lexie. About the seasons of our lives. How, when you lose someone you love, the world seems plunged into an eternal winter.
I close my eyes for a moment. Then it’s as if I’m transported back in time, to a summer when you and Ollie were young. Wearing shorts and T-shirts, your hair was tangled, your limbs golden from the sun. Your voices light, your eyes filled with hope; your cares a world away.
‘Edie?’ A distant voice brings me back to the present, just as the door to the garden is flung open.
Lucy stands there. ‘It’s Mary,’ she calls out. ‘She’s had a fall,’ she shouts, before turning and running back towards the stables.
I’m already on my feet, following. When I reach the stables, Lucy’s crouched down next to Mary. A strange feeling comes over me as I take in Mary’s still body, Lucy’s folded-up jacket under her head; the pallor of her skin, a memory coming back of that terrible afternoon I found you.
‘She came in with some cake for us. Then her legs just seemed to go. I’ve tried to wake her, but she hasn’t opened her eyes. An ambulance is on the way.’
Crouching down next to Mary, I take one of her hands.
It’s tiny and cold. ‘Help is on the way,’ I say softly.
‘You’re going to be OK.’ Glancing up, I see the plate of cake where she left it, on one of our workbenches.
A million thoughts fill my head, that she shouldn’t have come out here; but at the same time, it could as easily have happened in the house.
‘I need to call Joe.’ I get up to find my phone.
The call goes to voicemail and I leave a message, asking him to call me back, just as an ambulance arrives. I watch, relieved, as the paramedics check Mary over, then carefully move her onto a stretcher, before taking her out to the ambulance.
‘You should go with her,’ Lucy says.
But I’m not thinking straight. ‘What about the meeting this afternoon?’
‘I can deal with that,’ she says. ‘It’s more important you stay with her.’
On the way to the hospital, Joe calls me. ‘Sorry I missed you. How is she?’ he asks.
‘Unconscious,’ I say. ‘We’re on our way to the hospital and she’s on oxygen. But her heart is erratic.’
‘I’m leaving now.’ His voice is anxious. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
* * *
After being admitted to A&E, Mary is moved to a small room off one of the wards. In spite of the nurses around her, my fear is growing. Her body seems to have shrunk, one of the machines she’s rigged up to beeping erratically.
It’s one of those moments when life hangs in the balance, when our focus is drawn to what matters most. Of course, I think of you. Your life that wasn’t long enough, that you crammed every second out of.
Sitting at Mary’s bedside, I watch the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, and I can’t help but think of the life she’s lived, of the kindness that’s touched everyone who knows her.
Then my mind drifts as I find myself questioning what my legacy is.
I love creating floral designs that are a part of so many weddings.
As you used to say, Lucy and I have a gift.
But is it enough? Shouldn’t I be doing something more?
Sitting beside her, I’m still holding her hand when Joe comes in.
‘How is she?’ he says quietly.
‘They think she had a heart attack,’ I say. ‘They’ve given her some medication. But so far, she hasn’t regained consciousness.’
Joe’s face is white. ‘I’m going to talk to one of the nurses.’